Guily or Innocent
by RachelVille
Summary: It has happened. Captain James T. Kirk has been charged for murder. Not able to prove his innocence, he is sent to a backwater prison planet where he will face the ultimate trial.
1. Prologue

_Alright, here it is: the first part of my new fan-fiction. This story has been a while in coming and updates will probably not be routine. Still, I decided to post it because I need some inspiration to keep on going. I'm only sixteen years-old, and I need some encouragement. Tell me what you think of my story thus far!_**  
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**Prologue**

The verdict had come quickly, the jury deliberating for only two point seven-five hours before returning with their decision.

A Starfleet Captain accused of murder. It was sure to grab headlines in any Tri-net or broadcast in the federation.

Reporters from all over the federation packed the courtroom, their attention focused on the one man who now stood motionless, fearing even to breathe as he awaited his fate. Today he would learn what became of him. At this moment his life was completely out of his hands.

He had held out hope until the end that their goal had simply been a good joke or scare-it wouldn't have been the first time they had toyed with him in that manner-but now all hope was gone. The verdict was in, and as it was read in a toneless, dispassionate voice, he felt his world crashing down around him. He finally understood that they were all-powerful and he was nothing but a simple ex-Starfleet captain. To ever have believed otherwise had been foolish.

His shoulders jumped as the gavel banged and life ended. From here on out there would be nothing for him but cold existence. There would be appeals, of course, but in his heart James T. Kirk knew it was over. He was a dead man now, although the heartbeat might go on in his body for years to come.

Guilty.

Guilty of murder.

He felt the world go black around him as he struggled to stay standing on his feet. How could this have happened? How? It mattered to no one that he was an innocent man; the court could say anything. They commanded and they had decreed him doomed. They wouldn't kill him outright. What better way to cause that suffering than by sending him away in chains, disgraced before his friends, Starfleet, and the entire Federation, never to be seen again?

Numbly he felt resistance as his hands were drawn behind him.

Already? They wanted to take him already? But he hadn't had a chance...

Before he could even complete the thought, his wrists were cuffed behind him, the sharp snap of the metal causing him to jump. Jim Kirk felt the cold knife of reality cut through his soul. It was his very last opportunity to ever see his friends again and he had lost it.

"Spock..." he murmured as they took his arms and forcibly led him away, his feet unwillingly following the path that had been set by those determined to destroy him. His voice gained power as he was hustled away from his long time friend. "Spock!" he cried, lunging toward his friend. Two burly guards hauled him back and dragged him in the direction of the door as the courtroom erupted in sound. They reached the exit and he jerked away from them once more, turning for a final look at the two men who meant everything-and more to him.

A single tear rolled down McCoy's cheek as he watched his best friend led away; Spock on the other hand, stood unmoving, his eyes on Jim. Jim tried to smile but his breathing was rapid and shallow, the pain in his chest almost unbearable. Finally, with a surge of determination, he straightened. Just because they had taken away his title, his freedom, his life, didn't mean that they had taken away his soul. Jim took one more look at the courtroom. One more glimpse of freedom. The last person he caught sight of before the door closed behind him was Spock. Their eyes locked for a moment and the Vulcan gave one single nod to him, as if promising that one day, they would see each other again. Then, James Kirk turned his head away and the world that he had always known, was taken from him.

_Reviews! Are what will keep this fan-fiction going! Tell me what you think!_


	2. Chapter 1

_Alright! Here is Chapter __1. Please tell me what you think so far!_**  
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**Chapter 1**

He awakens with a start.

Automatically, his Starfleet training instantly kicks in and he doesn't move, listening for whatever woke him. In the small room, he hears someone passing loudly in the corridor outside his cell. The sound must have pulled him out of his sleep. Breathing in and out slowly, Jim Kirk willed his tensed muscles to relax. Nothing had changed. He was still here.

The past few weeks and months had become blur to him now, meaningless time spent locked in a cell in some backwater jail planet. Jim Kirk knew that a desperate fight had gone on outside those walls for his freedom, but in his small little world he had been helpless to assist or even know what the world was saying. Time had ticked by for him. It was like a heartbeat losing precious life every second, slower and slower and …slower. It seemed like time was going by so slowly that the clock would stop any second, and life would cease to exist. Jim squared his shoulders and tried to squash the feeling of helplessness. He may be defeated to the world, but he would never be defeated in mind or spirit. Never.

A rough cough jolted him from his line of thought. Kirk's head snapped up in time to see a pale convict being escorted by a somber looking guard. The man was dressed in the traditional bright striped prison garb that every other convict on the planet wore. His jumpsuit seemed to swallow up his entire body and what poked out looked like the skeleton of a dead man. His skin was a sickly yellow color, his face of jutting bones, and he wheezed with every step he took. The convict looked hardly able to stand as the guard harshly shoved him past Kirk's cell. The poor man stumbled forward and Kirk vaguely wondered how the man was still standing on his own fragile legs. Kirk's eyes followed them as they passed on by, willing the man to keep on going. Soon, they had passed on by and all that was left of them was their echoing foot steps as they got farther away. Once again, Kirk was left to himself counting each second that passed, and wondering how the Enterprise was faring.

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Silence reined on the bridge on the Enterprise. This silence was not the usual, comfortable silence interrupted by soft murmurings from Uhura and quiet discussions from other bridge crew members. This silence was tense and solemn, with air stretched like a tight rubber band ready to spring loose at any moment. There was none of the usual bickering or hushed laughter, instead the faces of the crew were grave and seemed like they were carved out of the hardest stone. At the center of this cold and rigid atmosphere was one being who sat stiff, straight, and appeared completely and utterly emotionless. This being though, was not as he appeared, for on the inside he was a whirl wind of thoughts and emotions, mainly of one James T Kirk.

The past months had been like one huge horrific nightmare for Spock. He had done everything in his power to prove Jim's innocence, but the proof just wasn't out there. _He_ knew that Jim was innocent but the court needed proof, proof that he had not been able to acquire. Ever since that day when the ambassador from Tellun Eight was found murdered in his bed, the hilt of a knife protruding out of his abdomen, and Jim's finger prints clearly visible on the hilt…

Spock's grip tightened on the arms of the Captain's chair.

"Mr. Chekov ... estimated arrival time to orbit of Ulemic X?" he inquired.

"Arrival in approximately fifteen point two hours, Sir," Chekov's answer was swift and direct but held none of the youthful enthusiasm that usually bounced in his Russian accent. In its place was a subdued voice that seemed to have aged many years in the past months.

Spock sat back with a small, inaudible sigh and nodded his head.

"Thank you, Mister Chekov. Continue arrival procedures."

"Aye, Keptain." Chekov replied but Spock did not hear him, for he had moved onto other, more essential business.

As Spock gazed at his pad with the latest reports and documents for him to sign, he could not help but wonder if it was all worth it. The loss of the Enterprise's captain was of great consequence to its efficiency. The moral of the crew was down to sixty-four point three- five percent and there were two hundred and thirty-four requests for transfers. The only reason he was still here on the Enterprise at all, was because Jim had asked him to. Spock had been prepared to leave Starfleet, but Jim had begged him to stay and take command of the Enterprise. Reluctantly, Spock had done so. He could not bear to give his friend more anguish than he was already enduring.

Spock contemplated the logic of staying with the Enterprise. Certainly that is what Jim had wanted him to do, but he had to question its necessity. After all, the only reason McCoy, Sulu, Chekov, Scotty, and Uhura had stayed on the ship was because Kirk had asked them to as well. None of them wished to serve on the Enterprise unless one particular man was commanding and that man was Captain Kirk. How long could the crew last like this? Spock was ready to leave, leave Starfleet, leave the Enterprise; he wanted to depart from it all. It did not appeal to him to stay if Jim Kirk was not by his side.

Once more Spock lifted him head and stared out the view screen. Outwardly, to the crew, he was the picture of complete calm. Inwardly, he fought a battle of demons waiting to devour his very consciousness.

_Jim. Jim, where are you now?_

* * *

Jim Kirk was in hell. At least that's what it felt like to the ex-Starfleet captain as he carted yet another tray of medical equipment through the prison's makeshift sickbay. It had been five days since the outbreak of sickness throughout the prison planet's compound, five days since Kirk's newfound life was once again flipped upside-down.

As soon as the illness was discovered, the sick people were quarantined, but more and more people kept flowing into the sickbay that the doctors were soon overwhelmed. To make matters worse, Doctor Jessica Williams discovered that the sickness might be a branch of the Xavis Disease for which there was no known cure. The prison planet went on red alert and whole sections of the planet were quarantined. A SOS distress signal was sent out, but it would take weeks for help to arrive since the prison planet was so far way from any Federation planet. The sickbay was soon overrun with more people than it could handle and makeshift rooms were set up. Kirk was one of the many convicts to be drafted to help care for the sick. It was there that he learned of the seriousness of the outbreak. The Xavis Disease is an easily spread disease since it travels through the air and can contaminate ten people in a matter of minutes. Kirk shuddered to think of what might happen if it escaped into the Federation…or beyond.

He lingered just beyond the next door, squinting to make out a man slumbering fitfully on one of the makeshift cots. The young man was clearly suffering from a fever, for he was dripping with sweat despite seeming to be shivering. A pail sat next to the bed, likely a precaution in case his condition turned his stomach mutinous. He murmured incoherently, but was otherwise eerily still.

Jim quietly closed the door and paid a visit to the other patients on his list. As he expected, they were all in the condition as the first. They were feverish, sweaty, fatigued, and suffering from severe nausea. Jessica's supposition that this was the Xavis Disease, seemed to be grimly confirmed. As each day went on, more convicts went from serious to critical and Kirk found himself fighting for the lives of men he never knew along with the doctors. For the moment, Kirk could believe that things were as they once were. He, James Kirk, was working for the good of the many. Once again, _he_ was making a difference.

_Reviews? ...Please?  
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	3. Chapter 2

_Here's the next Chapter Enjoy!_

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**Chapter 2**

Jim Kirk raised his head out of the toilet and wiped his mouth with the hem of his sleeve. Slowly he sat back on his heels and willed his fluttering stomach not to revolt. He had already gone through this process several times and he had no urge to continue. Kirk took several small sample breaths of air and was thankful when his stomach remained in a somewhat calm state. He stared maliciously at the toilet as if willing it to take away all his troubles, but of course, nothing happened.

It was day fourteen since the "epidemic," as they were now calling it, had broke out among the planet and Kirk was one of the last standing. Almost all of the doctors, nurses, and inmates were down with the disease and many were on their death bed. Not that he was feeling great, he grudgingly added to himself. Just yesterday, he had diagnosed himself as having been infected with the disease. As soon as he realized those facts, he hurriedly deleted the memory from the tricorder. He may be sick, the same as everyone else, but he wasn't one for being catered to in bed.

Kirk sighed wearily and ran his fingers through his hair. He was exhausted, but refused to relinquish himself to a biobed – not that there were enough of them to go around anyway. He would continue to care for the others until help came or until he collapsed, whichever came first. By the way things were going Kirk figured that the latter alternative was more likely.

Time trickled by and Kirk, who was still lying on the bathroom floor, couldn't help but think of his friends. Where were they? What were they doing now? He grunted softly to himself, shoot, he even missed Bones' sarcastic comments. If only he were here now, Kirk thought drearily. Bones would make everything better, he always did…

"_Routine diplomatic mission my ass." Doctor McCoy grumbled._

_His eyes flickered upwards to meet Kirk's, and he raised an eyebrow before returning to the somewhat more pressing matter of the knife buried in Kirk's shoulder._

"_The way all our missions have been going, this is beginning to seem routine." He grouched under his breath._

"_Yeah, that's great; do you think you can get the knife out of my shoulder now?" Came the slightly strained reply._

"_Actually, no," said McCoy, standing up. Kirk stayed seated against one of the walls of the shuttle as McCoy crossed to his medical kit. "Not until we're back on the ship – unless you want to bleed to death, in which case sure, just give me a minute to get everything prepared."_

"_So it just gets to stay there? Hanging out of my shoulder?"_

_McCoy pulled out a roll of bandage. "Pretty much, yes."_

_Kirk closed his eyes briefly and cursed under his breath. He decided to focus on something else._

"_Spock, how long 'til we're back on the ship?"_

_Spock poked his head in from the front section of the shuttle. _

"_That depends Captain. When the Zytocs fired on us, they hit several of the power generators – we are currently operating at half-capacity. If we dedicate half of what power we have to propulsion and half to signaling the shi -"_

"_And exactly how many halves does that leave for life support." McCoy demanded._

"_I am aware of that," said Spock. "However, the hull of the shuttle is insulated to keep in warmth. I believe that will be suitable to sustain us for the amount of time we will be trapped here."_

"_There's no other way to divide up the power?" asked Kirk hopefully._

"_None with any greater or even similar probably of success," said Spock._

"_Then do it."_

"_Yes, Captain." Spock's head disappeared back into the forward section of the shuttle. Kirk's attention was drawn back to McCoy who was finishing wrapping up the blade._

"_All right," McCoy instructed him. "As you can tell, if you move it hurts. My professional medical advice, therefore, is try not to move."_

"_Thanks," Kirk said tightly. "Wouldn't have thought of that one."_

_He leaned into the side of the shuttle trying not to think about the blade protruding from his stomach. Kirk let his eyes slip shut and there was silence._

_Minutes pass before Kirk interrupted the quiet and this time it came out as a whimper._

"_Bones, it hurts real bad." A pause. "Am I going to die?"_

"_Jim," McCoy said gently. "Jim, listen to me. You're not going to die. You know why? Because you have me and Spock to save your ass every time you get into trouble. Jim, we're here every time you get sick or do some idiotic stunt, because we care for you. I'll always be there to get you out of your messes and you can bet Spock will be right on my tail._

Those words of McCoy's seemed to echo around Kirk's head as he lay on the floor of the bathroom. Bones wasn't here now, and never would be again. He was alone. _They _had seen to that.

The room seemed to spin lazily around him and he reached out to touch one of the walls that didn't seem to stay still. _Focus Jim, focus. _He told himself. Dwelling on the past wouldn't do him any good here and now. He needed a course of action. A plan. _Think._

Suddenly, all coherent thought was erased from Kirk's mind as he bolted up from his slouching position and leaned over the toilet. Gagging, he heaved…and heaved again and again.

It seemed like hours later when his stomach finally settled and his straining muscles uncoiled. With a soft, relieved sigh, he slowly clambered to his feet and gripped the door frame of the bathroom, trying to stay upright. He wiped up the grime that had splattered on his cloths. Others needed him; he could spend no more time worrying about himself or the friends that he would never see again. He must not dwell on the past, however painful that might be. _Other people needed him_, and that was all that really mattered for now.

With a weak and fragile body, but with a strong mind, Jim Kirk opened the door once again to enter the gates of hell.

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_Whew! There, that chapter is done. I'm warning you guys though, I have not written the next chapter as of yet. You may be waiting a while longer for the next chapter as I am experiencing writers block._


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